Deranged, Eh?
by rewind route
Summary: Canada was glad that America had remembered his birthday. Now he would just have to bludgeon him, drag him down into his basement, and steal his identity. He'd been practicing, and he was getting pretty good at acting like a loud idiot. For once, no one would even notice that America was gone. Snapped!Canada


**Warning: Blood.**

* * *

It was July 1st. Canada Day. America owned a calendar for the sole purpose of remembering this day. He was the only one who ever did. Canada was never cooked a nice dinner on his birthday, his friends never came over bearing presents, and he had certainly never been thrown a surprise party before. Every year, it was just him and his brother sitting awkwardly in Canada's quiet house as Kumajiro asked who he was.

America had almost forgotten four times. One time he had forgotten until the middle of the day and he hadn't had time to get to Canada's house that day, so he wound up arriving at his front door the day after. Canada had forgiven him, but America was determined to never make that mistake again. Without him Canada would be completely alone on his birthday, and a hero would never put their little brother through that!

This year all had went well. It was noon and America was already knocking on Canada's door while smiling down at the poorly wrapped present in his hands. He liked Canada's peaceful birthdays. They were very different from his own, but they were nice. America's stomach twisted in a knot as a pang of guilt hit him. If he had called the other nations and reminded them of the event, then Canada could have the celebration he deserved. But a sick, selfish part of America loved being the only one who remembered. He knew that he shouldn't feel that way, but at the same time he couldn't help but bask in the feeling of having someone rely upon him. It was his favorite sensation. It made him feel like a hero. So, he was the only one there. And he was glad for that.

America waited outside for a bit longer than he was used to Canada making him wait. He started to worry for a moment that Canada wasn't home, cursing himself for not calling ahead. He had just figured that his brother wouldn't have any other plans...He never had any other plans.

After a moment more, though, Canada's front door squeaked open and America was greeted with a wide smile and a hug. "Happy birthday, Mattie!" America shouted, pulling out of Matthew's embrace and following Canada into the house as he spoke.

"Thank you for remembering my birthday again, Al," Canada said, his voice soft, sweet, and full of gratitude.

"Of course! That's what big brothers do!" America set Canada's present on the coffee table in the house's living room and then followed his brother into the kitchen.

Canada's house was fairly large, at least, it was way bigger than America's main apartment. It made sense though, considering that Canada was surrounded by the woods and caribou, while America's apartment building was encircled by high-rises and taxis. Everything about Canada's house was simple, from the pure white couch that Kumajiro was sleeping on, to the pale, tan walls, and the dark brown wooden floor. Everything was clean too. America suddenly felt the need to take his shoes off.

"Yeah sure...but we both know that I'm actually the older one..."

"Not true!" America shook his head and puffed his cheeks out, making Canada laugh, before giving up and beginning to laugh as well.

"So...you hungry, eh?" Canada asked, still grinning. They both knew that his question was unnecessary.

America just nodded his head enthusiastically and Canada opened his fridge to reveal the dinner he had cooked. America felt a bit bad that Canada had to cook dinner on his birthday, but he couldn't transport food from his house to Canada's without it spoiling, and besides, Canada really never seemed to mind it.

It was a roasted goose. Canada loved eating goose meat on holidays, and America wasn't surprised to see the food make an appearance today. He really wasn't too fond of the game himself, but he always pretended he loved it for Canada's sake.

Canada dished out the food, giving America more than he gave himself, and then they sat across from each other at Canada's small dining table. He had never needed more than two seats, so he only owned two dining chairs. Canada quietly started eating, and America quickly followed suit. "This is great!" America shouted, not bothering to swallow before he opened his mouth.

Canada looked a bit angry...but no, that couldn't be right? Right? "I'm glad you like it, Al," Canada whispered, closing his eyes and smiling sweetly.

America starred down at his plate wondering what had just happened. Maybe he was bothering Canada...Maybe Canada didn't want him there? He hadn't asked if could come, so maybe Canada hadn't been planning for him to just suddenly show up like he had. But he came every year, except the year he forgot...but surely Canada knew that he wouldn't forget again and that he'd come! But perhaps Canada wished he hadn't. Maybe Canada liked being alone? Was it the fact that America was eating his food that had made Canada glare at him like that? Surely it couldn't just be that he had spoken with his mouth full, he did that all the time...but Canada's house was so neat, maybe he expected America to have better manners?

America continued to eat, but he took care not to try to strike up another conversation. So, the meal passed in silence, and America found himself wishing that he had brought at least one of the other nations with him, if only just to make this dinner a little less uncomfortable.

Once they were both done eating (America finished way before Canada) Canada took the plates to the kitchen and started to clean up. America quickly followed him, "I'll clean them," he offered, but his brother just shook his head.

"I've got it covered," Canada replied, washing the plates off before sticking them in his dishwasher. It didn't seem to be a hard task, so America gave up.

After Canada had finished America snagged his present from off the coffee table and thrust it into his brother's hands. "Open it!"

The present was absurdly thin, and upon ripping off the red wrapping paper it was revealed to just be an envelope. Canada looked confused as he began to attempt to open the envelope without tearing the contents. America watched him eagerly, worried that he wouldn't like his present. He always had a difficult time trying to figure out what to get Canada. He didn't really know what his brother was into, so shopping for him was a real pain.

Inside of the envelope was a card with a picture of the Canadian flag on the front. As Canada opened the small card a piece of paper flew out and drifted towards the ground. It was one of those hand written coupons that children give their parents...the type that usually offer free hugs and such. America grimaced, hoping that Canada wouldn't judge him before he actually read what the slip of paper said.

" _Let's go to Disney World together, Mattie! Anytime you want! I'll pay for everything!"_

"Sorry," America mumbled, his cheeks turning a light shade of red, "I wasn't sure when you'd be able to go so I didn't actually buy the tickets yet or anything, but I promise I will! If you want them that is..." Canada was still staring at the paper with a serious expression on his face, and he hadn't said anything yet. It was driving America nuts. Who wouldn't want a trip to Disney World? Was Canada seriously that weird? Well...Canada was pretty boring so maybe such an exciting place would be too much for him to handle...

"No, I love it," Canada whispered, finally lifting his head and smiling brightly at America, "I can't wait to go with you."

America let loose a breath he had been holding in, and smiled back, hitting Canada playfully on the back. "Great! Just tell me when you want to go, Kay? A few months in advance too, cause' I need to plan it and all that...but it's tons of fun there!"

Canada silently nodded and opened the card back up, reading the message that America had scrawled inside. _"Happy Birthday, bro!_ _I'm sorry for forgetting about you sometimes...But I love you! Love- Alfred F. Jones"_

"Thank you, Alfred..." Canada hugged the card to his chest, and wiped away a tear. "Let's eat some ice cream, eh?"

* * *

They sat on Canada's stainless white leather couch as they ate chocolate ice cream, it made America kind of nervous. The two nations loved ice cream, though, and often bonded over their mutual admiration for the frozen dairy. "Al...Why do think everyone always forgets about me, eh?"

"Who are you?" Kumajiro asked, staring up at Canada as he finally woke up from his nap.

Canada sighed, "Exactly..."

"I dunno dude, maybe it's because you're so quiet and stuff? Try speaking up more," America answered, just coming back from a trip to the kitchen to get another bowl full of ice cream.

"Even when I shout no one notices me, and if they do they all just think that I'm you!" Canada set his bowl down and watched America closely as he sat back down next to him.

Canada looked pretty upset and America honestly was trying to figure out how to comfort him, but he wasn't really good with this type of thing, so he just scooted closer to Canada and smiled at him. "It's ok! Because I'm amazing, so they just think you're amazing too, so that's good, right?"

"I need to go to the bathroom," Canada mumbled, quickly standing up and walking out of the room.

America stared at Kumajiro and sighed. "I probably shouldn't've said that," he muttered, running his hands through his hair. Canada was probably pretty mad at him now, he probably didn't even really need to go to the bathroom. America had just been trying to comfort him, but Canada was so overly sensitive that such a task seemed to be impossible. Or maybe this was one of those times where America had failed at reading the atmosphere? He wasn't really sure.

He shrugged and continued to eat his ice cream as he waited for Canada to come back. He'd apologize and it would all be fine. After all, he was the only one who ever really even noticed Canada, so it wasn't as if his brother could afford to stay angry at him for very long.

America _didn't_ notice when Canada came back into the room.

America _didn't_ notice that he had a hockey stick lingering above his head.

America _did_ notice when Canada lowered the hockey stick.

America screamed as blood began to pour down his head. He jumped off of the couch, knocking his bowl of ice cream all over the white leather, and dashed into the corner of the room. "Matt...What are you doing!?" His eyes were so wide, his head hurt so bad, he was so dizzy, and there was so much blood.

Canada ran towards America, still clutching his bloody hockey stick tightly in his hands, "You know why no one notices me, eh?" His voice was so soft, so very soft that America could hardly make out what he was saying through his own terrible sobbing cries.

"Stop!" America yelled, "Please, stop!" He put his hands above his head to guard himself, and began looking around him, desperate for something he could use for self-defense. His hands immediately went to his waist, but there was no gun there...he never brought his gun with him on a trip to his brother's home. The corner he was standing in was vacant of all but a tabletop lamp, so America ripped the cord out of the socket and held it in front of him, his arms trembling. He wasn't afraid of his brother, he could take him in a fight any day, but he was afraid, simply because it was his brother that he was fighting.

Canada didn't stop. His hockey stick came down, smashing the lamp before America even had the chance to use it. Glass flew, and a shard scratched America's cheek. He winced and attempted to strike Canada with the base of the lamp, but Canada blocked with the hockey stick. "It's because of you, America," he muttered. "It's because you're such an attention whore!" Canada's voice was growing louder and louder and his words were growing colder and colder. He raised his hockey stick up, smashing America's chin and causing his brother to fall to the ground. He was finally unconscious.

Canada sighed and set his hockey stick down. His house was a complete mess. It would have been so much easier if his brother had gone down with one hit, but now his couch was ruined, his lamp was broken, and there was blood all over his wall.

* * *

When America was finally able to blink his eyes open he couldn't see very far. The lightbulb dangling above him didn't allow him to see much accept his own lap and the chair that he was slumped over in. Plus, his glasses were no longer in place. He tried to stand up, but he was still so disoriented that he just couldn't manage it. Or no...His feet were handcuffed to the chair legs and his arms were handcuffed to the armrests. The chair was metal and it seemed to be stuck in place, so America couldn't even tip it over. He was trapped. He didn't really know where he was, though.

"Oh, you're awake?"

America jerked his head up, and immediately regretted it as pain seared down through his neck. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for Canada until he finally found him; he was sitting down, his back against a wall, and his hair covering his face. His hockey stick clanked against the wall as he got to his feet.

"Canada! What the hell was that for!? Let me out right now!" America screamed, even though it hurt worse than anything for him to open his mouth. He knew he was healing far faster than a human would, but that didn't comfort him any.

"That would be a waste, eh?" Canada replied, brushing his hair out of his face and grinning.

America didn't like the way Canada looked, not at all. Why was he smiling? America pulled against his bindings, but even his incredible strength proved to be inadequate. "Mattie, please don't hurt me again..." America didn't care about his pride for once, if he thought that begging for mercy would help him get out of this, then he'd beg for mercy.

"You think you can make me feel sorry for you, eh? You really are an _idiot_ , America _._ " Canada was still whispering in the same gentle voice America was so used to ignoring, but even though his voice sounded the same, it felt so very different.

America couldn't help himself, he started crying. He didn't know what else to say. He closed his eyes, and felt his tears slip down his wounded chin and onto his lap. He couldn't look at Canada anymore, because surely...that couldn't be his brother.

He felt soft skin brush against his cheeks, and he slowly opened his eyes to see Canada bending over and smiling at him. "It's funny how you think you're the victim here."

"What did I do to deserve this, Mattie?" America whispered, his voice so low it sounded identical to Canada's.

Canada fell silent for a moment, seemingly considering how he would answer. "You've shared all your enemies with me and kept all your friends. You constantly forget I exist, did it occur to you that that hurts, just a little bit, eh? You used me. You never once stuck up for me! You never listened to me!" The sudden shift to past tense was frightening, and Canada was screaming. It was shocking, to have Canada screaming in his ear, and America found that he could hardly concentrate on what Canada was saying, though he was pretty certain he didn't want to listen to him anyway. "I've been alone my whole life because of you! I've never had a single real friend, because of you!"

"I'm sorry!" America yelled, trying to drown out Canada's screams.

"Are you, really?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Let me go and I'll make sure no one ever forgets about you again, I promise! I'll help you, alright? You should have just told me you felt this way...I'll help you!"

"I've told you a million times, but you never even knew I was in the room!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, America!"

America closed his mouth quickly, realizing he was only making things worse for himself. There was no use speaking. Canada was insane, out of his mind, psycho. He couldn't be reasoned with, his conscience was gone, and America was beginning to find that he was very, very afraid of his little brother.

"I hate you!"

The words burrowed deep. After all that had happened today America already knew that Canada despised him, but it still hurt to hear. "Mattie..." America hated him too. Now he did, at least. How could he not? But he really had loved him a few hours ago. He really had. Ugh, he was glad that he hadn't spent money on those tickets to Disney World yet...Little ingrate.

"But you know...this has been a pretty good birthday. I bet you regret remembering it now, eh?" Canada laughed and disappeared back into the unlit portion of the room. Footsteps rang out, a door slammed and then America was alone.

Canada's crimson hockey stick was still propped up against the wall, though...Like a trophy. The ass.

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the cover photo.**


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